


Untitled

by redseeker



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Inflation, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-10-14 11:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10535736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redseeker/pseuds/redseeker
Summary: Cyclonus and Tailgate share some intimate alone time.





	

Cyclonus wrapped one hand around each of Tailgate’s ankles and spread the minibot’s legs as wide as they would go. Bared beneath his gaze were Tailgate’s tiny valve’s soft lips and his little afthole already stretched and lubricated by Cyclonus’s careful fingering. Both holes seemed to beg for the hard spike that jutted up between Cyclonus’s legs, its tip leaking silvery precum and its violet biolights gently pulsing with the rhythm of his fuel pump. He rubbed his spike against Tailgate’s valve and groaned at the softness of the little bot’s protoflesh against his needy spike.

He transferred one of Tailgate’s ankles to his right hand, so he held both the minibot’s legs in the same hand. With Tailgate’s legs together now, he lifted them, forcing Tailgate’s rump to lift and his small body to curl. He nudged the tip of his spike against the small opening in Tailgate’s rear, and teased him for a little while by thrusting a minute amount and then withdrawing, just letting his spike-tip coax open the tiny pucker.

“Please,” Tailgate breathed. His visor was bright and hazy blue-white, and his cooling fans were running overtime. His small hands were clutching at the bed beneath him.

Cyclonus smirked, and gave Tailgate what he wanted. He eased his hips forward, and the tip of his spike pushed inside Tailgate’s aft. He didn’t stop after the first few inches, but slowly kept going, and Tailgate gasped and whimpered as his virgin sphincter was stretched wide open by Cyclonus’s rod. Cyclonus struck a slow rhythm with his thrusts, and luxuriated in the unbelievable tightness and heat of the minibot’s body. He was amazed at how much of him Tailgate could take. He watched in disbelief as inch after inch of his intimidating spike disappeared inside the tiny mech’s sweet aft. Tailgate’s hole stretched supply, the result of months of careful training.

When Tailgate was able to take all of Cyclonus’s spike, then the warrior bared his teeth in a snarl of lust and gave his hips a swift jolt. Tailgate yelped and flailed. Cyclonus growled, a deep, rumbling sound. Tailgate was totally in his power. He spread Tailgate’s legs again, one large hand wrapped around each of Tailgate’s calves, and gently pried them open until they were pressed down against the bed. Tailgate was opened and bared utterly, and fully speared upon Cyclonus’s cock. Tailgate looked up at him and sobbed.

Cyclonus’s face took on a darker, sharper aspect, his red optics burning, as he began to fuck Tailgate in earnest. He wasn’t rough, but he was thorough. He plumbed the deepest depths of Tailgate’s body with his hard and unforgiving spike, and watched every twitch and tremble, listened closely to every gasp and cry that he wrung from Tailgate. Tailgate’s body appeared to swell each time Cyclonus buried his spike inside him, as the little bot’s frame struggled to make room for the large penetration. Soon Cyclonus was able to move steadily and smoothly in and out of Tailgate’s aft, although he kept his thrusts tightly controlled. The moment Tailgate showed a sign of pain, he would be able to stop at once. However, the minibot seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, and merely writhed and moaned in a wanton display of his pleasure.

Cyclonus rumbled something in the old tongue and lowered himself down over Tailgate’s body, releasing Tailgate’s legs to support his own weight on his forearms instead. Tailgate was squeezed beneath his bulk, and his stubby legs wriggled and kicked on either side of Cyclonus’s hips. The change in position altered the angle of Cyclonus’s thrusts, and Tailgate let out a static-filled shriek as the warrior’s spike raked against a particularly responsive sensor cluster deep, deep inside him. Tailgate overloaded beneath Cyclonus, pressed between the warrior and the bed, his tight aft pulsing around Cyclonus’s spike as his whole body tightened, the pleasure coming in dizzying waves.

It was more than Cyclonus could take. He rolled over and brought Tailgate with him, making the minibot sit up astride his spike. He wrapped his hands around Tailgate’s middle and lifted him, then forced him quickly down again, and again. He lifted and thrust his hips as he did so, leaving Tailgate to helplessly kick and flail while Cyclonus handled and used him like a toy. Cyclonus’s hands encircled Tailgate’s waist entirely, and his superior strength and size meant he could manhandle the minibot however he chose.

He fucked Tailgate harder than he had intended to. Tailgate’s aft, which had been generously lubricated before they began, seemed to suck and pull at Cyclonus’s spike, and each time Cyclonus rammed his length inside it excess lubricant was squeezed out to splash between the two mechs’ thighs. Tailgate keened and sobbed, his visor dazzlingly over-bright. Cyclonus’s gaze locked with Tailgate’s, and a breathless moment later he was pressing Tailgate down on his spike, thrusting as deep as he was able, and spilling a generous load of transfluid deep into the minibot’s insides. It was enough to bulge Tailgate’s abdomen even further, and the sight only made Cyclonus’s overload longer and more intense. Tailgate came again, and afterwards his head tipped back and his body sagged bonelessly, held up by Cyclonus’s unfailing grip. Cyclonus murmured sweet praise in Primal and luxuriated for a while rocking and grinding into Tailgate’s lax frame. A little transfluid escaped Tailgate’s aft, but Cyclonus’s spike plugged most of it inside.

Once both of their climaxes were fully passed and their bodies sufficiently relaxed, Cyclonus carefully manoeuvred them so Tailgate was once more on his back, Cyclonus on his knees, his spike still inside Tailgate’s rear.

“Ready?” he asked softly.

Tailgate gave a distracted nod, and Cyclonus slowly pulled his spike from Tailgate’s aft. The rim of Tailgate’s afthole was stretched and swollen, pink with energon beneath the thin derma-layer, and the motion of Cyclonus’s spike withdrawing tugged at it so it pulled outward a little, making it look as though it were trying to hold onto Cyclonus’s cock and keep him inside.

On impulse, Cyclonus lifted Tailgate’s hips up before much of the pooled transfluid could pour out of him. He held Tailgate upside down against his body, and brought the little bot’s groin up to his face. Tailgate’s aft gaped open, and Cyclonus saw that it was still full of thick, silver transfluid. He licked at it, kissed the open hole, and delved his glossa inside. Tailgate’s legs fell wide apart and he flailed a little, but Cyclonus just firmed his hold on him, wrapping his arms around Tailgate’s middle to keep him securely in place, and continued to eat out his aft. He sucked his own transfluid from Tailgate’s body, scooped it out with his glossa, and swirled that same glossa around Tailgate’s inner walls until he was, after some considerable time, satisfied that the minibot’s aft was empty and clean. Then he lowered Tailgate back onto the berth, this time on his front, and arranged him with his thick thighs apart and his array bared.

Tailgate was covering his face with his hands, his faceplates burning with a heady mixture of embarrassment and pleasure.

“There,” Cyclonus said. He licked his lips and swallowed again. “You don’t want to spend the rest of the cycle leaking.” He considered the concept for a moment, picturing Tailgate going about his day with his belly bulged and his aft full of Cyclonus’s cum, squirming as it slowly seeped out of him past the seams in his rear armour, how he would blush and hope no-bot could see the silvery trails trickling down his thighs… “Hn. Perhaps next time,” he said, his lips curling into a minute smirk.

He spread Tailgate’s aft with his hands and admired the open, pink hole with its soft and puffy rim, all wet and glistening. Beneath it, Tailgate’s valve was leaking lubricant. As Cyclonus was inspecting Tailgate’s holes, Tailgate looked over his shoulder and wiggled his hips.

Cyclonus grunted. “Insatiable thing,” he said.

He lay down and lifted Tailgate’s hips enough for him to comfortably nuzzle up against the minibot’s valve. He licked and nibbled at its folds, slipped his glossa in between them, and suckled on Tailgate’s anterior sensor node. As he did so, he kept Tailgate’s aft open with careful claws. He brought Tailgate to overload with his mouth, and savoured the taste of the fluids that burst onto his glossa like the finest aged oil.

Afterwards, he sat up on the berth with his back against the wall, and pulled Tailgate into his lap. Tailgate was replete, but Cyclonus’s spike had hardened again, and jutted up between Tailgate’s spread thighs, demanding attention.

“Let me?” Tailgate said. Cyclonus gave him a small nod of permission, and Tailgate wrapped both his small hands around Cyclonus’s spike. He stroked it lovingly until Cyclonus came onto Tailgate’s abdomen and chest. Cyclonus groaned in satisfaction and let his head fall back.

Pleased with himself, Tailgate cuddled up against him. Cyclonus cradled him against his frame, and the pair of them rested a while in peaceful, post-coital contentment.


End file.
